


Nebula

by QueenPotema



Series: A Dark and Jeweled Sky [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 01:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPotema/pseuds/QueenPotema
Summary: That's the only hope he has, and he has no other choice but to cling to it, even as a dark, coiled, ominous feeling makes it's home in Hashirama's gut, steadily strangling his small ray of hope like a constricting viper. Something intangible but irrevocable tells Hashirama that he will never see his divine gift again.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: A Dark and Jeweled Sky [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864837
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Nebula

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there folks! This can be read alone, but it is a prologue of sorts that goes with A Dark and Jeweled Sky. I have been writing this since the first installment in the series, and it's finally ready to share! 
> 
> Basically, this is thoughts and memories that I feel add something important to the whole story, but they didn't fit in any of the bigger stories. There is one other part that goes with it too, but being that this part is centered around Madara and Hashirama and the other part is centered around Madara and Izuna, I decided that they should be seperated so their individual impacts weren't watered down. 
> 
> Thematically speaking, this little insight is most relevant to All Our Stars, thus the title 'Nebula' but it does take place before the whole series. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Uchiha Madara loves these battles with Hashirama. He doesn't love war, he hates that he has no other choice but to cross blades maliciously with the man he foolishly fell in love with, but he does love the battles themselves. He loves how alive he feels when excitement rushes through his veins, wind whips through his hair, and he is faced with the challenge of matching someone who is truly his equal.

On a normal day, adrenaline pounding through Madara's veins with every beat of his heart would drown out all else save only for the careful peripheral watch he keeps on his little brother, and he and the Senju clan head would focus on each other as the world took a backseat to their fight. Today however, something urgent pulls at Madara's mind, a constant tingle at the back of his head space that has persisted since the moment he woke up, and it is very troublesome to say the least. Something is wrong, Madara can feel it in his bones and there is a certain resolve in Hashirama's movements that is sending his survival instincts into overdrive. Madara knows how tired he is of spurned peace treaties and unopened letters, knowledge which only serves to add to the weight of the dread in his mind. 

It is not that Madara does not want peace, but there are complexities to the situation that Hashirama fails to take into account. Namely, that the Uchiha who are defecting are but a small portion of the clan, that those few are mostly civilians removed from the heart of the conflict with no personal grudges in the war and no sharingan to hold onto those they do have, that the vast majority of the shinobi under Madara's command have no such luxuries, and that he can't just force everyone to go along with a cease fire without proving that they will be safe if they lay down their weapons at the very least. The Uchiha as a whole do not trust Hashirama as Madara does. Most of Madara's men are as strongly against peace with the Senju as Izuna is, and it would take a massive shift of perspective to change their minds.

Madara very narrowly avoids being maimed by his friend's incoming sword, pulling his thoughts back to the present. At least Hashirama is not planning to kill him, it is obvious to Madara that all his blows are still being carefully aimed so that even if they did for whatever reason land, it would cause severe bodily harm but it wouldn't be enough to cause death. But if Hashirama is still playing along with their normal glorified sparring match, then why does Madara have such a horrible feeling sending his instincts haywire? 

A scowl settles on Hashirama's unusually focused features as he leaps back a few feet, "Why are you so distracted?"

"Distracted am I?" Madara snarls with a sneer trying to play it off as nothing, "I will show you just how  _ distracted _ I am!"

He goes through the signs blindingly fast and hurls a fireball at his opponent. Hashirama easily dodges Madara's flames, but a few of the clan mates that were behind him were not so lucky and they cry out in pain from their new second and third degree burns. Hashirama snarls out his frustration, likely irritated by the fact that he had not been aware those men were behind him and therefore hadn't been able to protect them when he dodged the fire ball. The Senju clan head charges Madara with a raised blade, a blow that is blocked by Madara's own sword and their dance continues. 

Madara sometimes believes that they may spend the rest of their days with their swords locked in a stalemate, and other times, like today, all he can think about is what may happen to his little brother and his clan if Hashirama ever decides to kill him. 

"Madara, this is  _ senseless _ . How many lives is it going to take to show you that?" Hashirama says with a hint of desperation in his voice. 

Madara does not answer, and instead shoves Hashirama firmly back a step by applying more pressure to their locked blades. A few sparks fly through the air. If only peace were as simple as his old naive friend believes. 

He has already wasted his breath trying to explain to Hashirama that their clans won't bend to their whims just because they are the leaders and they really want them to, especially if neither of them ever proves themselves stronger than the other beyond any shadow of a doubt. They will either have to force others to submit, or convince them to, and neither is something they are currently capable of. But of course, Hashirama did not listen then, and he likely will not listen now. He has a head harder than a boulder and he is blinded by a fantasy as always. If they could somehow put the whole world into Hashirama's dreamland where hatred doesn't exist and there are no bloody grudges from bloody wars driving humans with short memories into even bloodier wars which create bigger grudges, then maybe Madara would lay down his blade and take Hashirama's hand. As things are, Madara fights on and waits for Hashirama to actually think for once, or for one of the two of them to die and force the remainder of their clan members to cooperate or die with them. 

"Are you even listening to me?!" Hashirama demands. 

Madara leaps back to avoid several roots that try and skewer him from below. As soon as he lands, he has to jump again to avoid wooden spears that splinter off the pillar-like roots and aim for his head.

Something is  _ wrong _ . That blow definitely would have been fatal if it had made contact, which makes it a very uncharacteristic sight. Madara's dread has only gotten more and more intense as this battle has gone on and now it is impossible for him to shake the feeling away. The tides are shifting, Madara can feel it. Hashirama is being much more aggressive than usual, and he is exponentially more agitated. Alarm bells start going off frantically in Madara's mind and he is about to call for his clan to begin falling back into their retreat formation when Hashirama springs forward with his sword behind him into a move Madara has never seen before in their carefully non-lethal dance. 

Madara's heart seizes in warning and he scrambles out of the Senju's path, only to notice a second too late that that was exactly what Hashirama was trying to get him to do. Madara sees the smirk on his friend's face when he sidesteps the attack, and then several things happen all at once. 

Hashirama slams his hands onto the ground, Madara realizes that his sword was still lying on the ground where he had leapt from, the Senju had been hiding the snake sign behind his back and pretending he was still using a sword to trick Madara into using the sharingan to figure out his new attack pattern when there wasn't one instead of using it to track his jutsu. Right after Madara figures out that he has been tricked and tries to protect himself at the last moment with his Susano'o, he feels an impact hit him in the back the likes of which he has never felt before in his life. Not even falling out of the trees while practicing jumping from branch to branch and landing on his back compares to it. 

Madara blacks out for a second and when he comes back too, he is very confused. He can't feel the lower part of his body, his ears are ringing mercilessly, and his vision is swimming with black spots. A bit of concentration brings his hearing back to working order. 

"No! That wasn't what I- I didn't mean to- Oh gods, what have I done?!" A panicked voice says, getting steadily closer and thus easier to hear over the sounds of ongoing warfare and the deafening ringing in Madara's ears. 

It is Hashirama's voice Madara discerns once he thinks about it. He forces his vision to clear and focus and sees Hashirama in front of him, his face contorted with fear and worry and one side marred with blood. Not just his face, Madara quickly realizes, it's  _ all over him  _ on his right side, splattered on his arm, on his armor, on his thigh, and on his neck. Whoever he hit is dead for sure with that much blood coming out just from the initial hit. 

Madara tries to breathe and that's when the fiery burning pain ignites in his chest. He clenches his teeth, the pain is enough to white out his vision for a few seconds, but he quickly brings it back to focus and tries to cough out whatever is obstructing his breathing. The taste of blood fills his mouth and a cold claw of fear grips his mind. He looks down and sees the nearly blunt root that had been put through the center of his chest with sheer force. 

_ Oh,  _ he thinks,  _ I am the one he hit. That's my blood on him, I was on his right, I'm the one who is dead.  _

He smiles and even lets out a few extremely painful chuckles. His feet aren't even touching the ground, he is being held in the air almost half a meter by the root impaling him, but he couldn't feel that at all because his spine got severed by the blow. He can only feel just a little past the wound, just enough to know that he is in agony. It's funny that even with severe spinal damage at their disposal the gods still chose to let him suffer the pain of his deathblow anyway. 

Hashirama hasn't budged an inch, he is standing in front of Madara, as pale as his ghost of a brother, and staring at the blood on his hands with a look of profound horror. He wasn't trying to do this, Madara realizes. He may have been trying to land a more painful blow than usual to get Madara's attention, but he wasn't intending to kill. Hashirama has always been so meticulously precise with his Mokuton though, he has had to be that way with such devastating power and it is certainly not like him to miss his target. Given that information, Madara can scarcely believe his current predicament to be an accident. Except that there is one thing Hashirama had not been able to account for… Madara lets out another chuckle only to have it send him into a horribly painful coughing fit. It had been Madara's own last ditch effort to summon the Susano'o that changed the root's path and led to this. 

Madara reaches for Hashirama, so he can get the man's attention, tell him that this is not his fault, and get that horrible pained look off his face, but he can't reach. He tries to speak but only ends up coughing out more of his precious blood. Hashirama doesn't snap out of his trance until he gets startled out of it and narrowly dodges a kunai that whips past his head. 

Then, finally, Hashirama looks back to Madara and starts moving closer with a panicked urgency, "I can still heal you! I can fix this, Madara, I promise I can-" 

He is interrupted by Izuna's arrival from the same direction the kunai had come from.

_ "Get away from my brother!"  _ Izuna screeches hatefully as he launches an attack bolstered with the power of the skeletal form of his Susano'o. 

Hashirama has not seen much of the capabilities of the Susano'o from Madara due to the drawbacks of its use and the fact that Madara always holds back by a large margin against Hashirama, so the Senju doesn't fully understand how dangerous it is. On top of that, he likely was not even aware Izuna had a Susano'o at all, as Izuna has explicit orders to never use his unless it's an absolute emergency. Finally, the Senju clan head made the grave mistake of not paying any attention to Izuna, or any of his surroundings really, because he was too busy having a panic attack. The combination of those things affords Izuna a solid hit and Madara winces at the sound of bones snapping and crunching under the unforgiving force of a skeletal chakra fist. Hashirama is flung away and crashes into a boulder that is nearly on the other side of the battlefield, eliciting another sympathetic cringe from Madara. Even Hashirama would not avoid serious injury from a savage attack like that one, though he will definitely fare much better in healing from his injuries than anyone else would. The feeling of blood crawling up Madara's throat draws a deep, wet cough from him, sending a bolt of mind bending pain through the parts of his body he can still feel and reminding him of the wound that is steadily sapping away his life. 

Izuna turns to face him, panting from exertion, and Madara's heart cracks seeing the fear and pain in his little brother's Mangekyo patterned eyes. 

"Aniki..." Izuna whimpers, sounding rather pathetic in contrast to his normal confident tone.

He moves forward and shakily reaches for the root holding Madara up. The elder of the two doesn't have the heart to tell Izuna that he won't be able to stand or walk to aid an escape, even if he is freed. 

"Shit," Izuna breaths out as he traces the edge of the root with his finger tips, and Madara is momentarily amused that his first instinct is to scold his adult brother for his language. 

It probably would come off insensitive if he did scold Izuna for cursing though, since his little brother is currently mapping out all of the locations of Madara's compromised vital organs and realizing that his death is a certainty with the wound being where it is. Izuna slides straight into denial, even though he has seen more than enough fatal injuries to know that Madara's are very fatal. He slices the root in two at the point where it enters Madara's back and the Uchiha clan head falls into his brother's arms with an agonized yelp. Madara's vision goes white for several seconds and he struggles to hold on to consciousness, which by some miracle, he manages. The new position makes it even more difficult to breathe. Another painful cough rattles Madara's frame as he fruitlessly tries to clear his airways and a fresh splatter of blood wets his face and Izuna's shoulder. 

"You'll be okay." Izuna says, more than a little bit desperately, "We will go home, and you will get healed and you will be just fine! You just have to survive until we get home to the healers, alright?  _ Please _ , hold on, you can't die on me."

Madara knows the pleas are more for Izuna's benefit than his, but he nods anyway, and does his best to cooperate as Izuna settles him on his back despite the stabs of excruciating pain every time he is moved. 

"Wait! Izuna, don't take him away, I can save him, I swear to you I can! Give me a chance!!" Hashirama calls, sounding equally as desperate as Izuna is. 

A quick glance in the direction of his voice finds the Senju is on the ground, his leg twisted in an odd painful looking way, one arm hanging uselessly at his side, and blood dripping from a gash on his forehead and mixing with Madara's blood as it flows down his cheek. Overall, he looks more battered than Madara has ever seen him. He has the hand of his good arm over his thigh and pushing glowing green chakra into it in an attempt to speed his own natural healing factor with extra chakra healing on what must be a broken femur judging by the awkward bend of the leg and fact that he can't seem to stand. His pale ghost of a younger brother appears at his side and starts helping him with the healing as well, but even with both of them it will be a few hours before Hashirama can safely walk. 

Izuna totally ignores Hashirama's begging, or maybe he just can't hear through his panic, and instead he takes up command of the Uchiha, "RETREAT!!" 

The clan starts passing the command to the farther ends of the battlefield and falling back at that, and Izuna turns to flee with them, trying to escape the rising chaos of the renewed fighting. 

Hashirama tries to stand, even with his broken leg, but only manages to get an inch or so off the ground before he is falling right back down with a cry of pain. His brother puts gentle pressure on one of Hashirama's shoulders to keep him from trying again, even as the idiot immediately begins struggling to get up. 

" ** _No!!!_** Izuna, _please!"_ Hashirama screams "Bring Madara to me! I'm begging you, just let me heal him!" 

Madara can't stand hearing the tears in Hashirama's voice, much less seeing him risk further injury trying to chase him, so he tries to stop Izuna as well, however futile it may be, "'Zu… wai…"

Just those two fragmented words bring more blood into Madara's throat, and he tries to cough it out to get a more satisfying breath to little avail. He just ends up ruining Izuna's shirt even more. Izuna is far too enraptured in his flight response to hear anything, and he never glances back once as he bolts towards their compound. 

Madara weakly turns his head to catch his last glimpse of Hashirama. The Senju is in nearly hysterical tears and fighting his brother even more fervently to get up even though he would just hurt himself and fall if he did. Madara can't help the little smile that quirks his lips at the ironic tragedy of it all. He recognizes that horrible broken agony in Hashirama's eyes even from so far away, his Senju does love him back after all. How cruel for him to only be given certainty of that when he is on death's doorstep. 

_ I'm sorry, Hashirama. You will have to take care of them without me. I only wish that we would have gotten the chance to live in a peaceful world together…  _ Madara thinks, indulging in the fantasy that Hashirama may be able to hear him as their eye contact breaks beyond the treeline. He then snuggles his head into the crook of his little brother's neck and wills the pounding of Izuna's heart to calm before the organ explodes from stress. 

* * *

Hashirama  _ screams  _ out his grief as his best friend, his gift from the divines, disappears from his view, bleeding, broken and dying. His broken leg throbs with pain as he gives one last futile thrash against Tobirama's firm hold. His crushed ribs and arm don't fare any better, his whole body is protesting the movement, but it doesn't matter. He would endure any amount of pain to save Madara. 

"Anija, you are making your injuries worse! Calm down and think! You won't catch up even if I let you go so just stay and heal!" Tobirama snaps. 

"He's dying!" Hashirama sobs, "If I don't stop Izuna, Madara will die! I just have a few broken bones, I'm fine, let me  _ go!" _

"That man's brother has nearly broken every bone on the left side of your body, what exactly makes you think he won't slit your throat next if you manage to hobble after them?" Tobirama demands. 

Hashirama clinches the hand of his good arm into a tight fist. Logically, he knows that Izuna is feral with protective instincts and worry right now just like he is, and the younger Uchiha definitely won't let him near Madara. Even so, the sound of wet halting breathing fills his head, and he is hyperaware of Madara's life blood beginning to dry on his skin; that's the two things that drown out his reason. Madara is dying right now, Hashirama can't think of anything else, and he is desperate to save his dear friend. 

"I have to do something… anything…" Hashirama says miserably through tears. 

Tobirama's single handed grip on his shoulder becomes a bit gentler in a subtle but still somehow awkward show of comfort, "You're too injured right now to do anything that would help, Anija. Heal yourself first, then worry about Madara. Please."

"Izuna will have him home by the time I get my leg healed." Hashirama mumbles, "I won't be able to get to him. That injury… all this blood… Madara is going to die. He's going to die, and it's all my fault for losing my temper and trying to hurt him."

Being reassuring is certainly not Tobirama's strong suit, but it means a lot that he continues to try, "The Uchiha have healers. They may be less skilled than you, but they have them nonetheless. They can keep him going at least, and if you  _ wait _ until you are healed you can draw the Uchiha out after Izuna realizes that his brother won't survive without more capable healers."

Finally, Hashirama gives in and slumps down, focusing all his strength into his healing. 

"Are you injured, Tobi? Izuna usually doesn't get past you like that…'' Hashirama asks after a guilty moment of contemplation. He should have already asked his little brother if he was hurt. Tobirama has no visible wounds, but he could have internal injuries, who knows what Izuna had done to get away from him and launch that attack? 

Tobirama lets out a little sigh, "He caught me off guard by pulling that chakra construct out of nowhere. I had no idea he could produce that thing. He didn't hit me nearly as hard with it as he hit you though. I just have a few scrapes and bruises."

"I'm sorry. I should have healed you first." Hashirama says miserably. He raises his good arm to do just that, but Tobirama slaps it back down. 

"I just told you I am not seriously wounded. That animal could have killed you, can you just worry about being able to walk before you carry on trying to save everyone else?" The younger man grumbles in exasperation. 

Hashirama smiles slightly and brings his arm back up to Tobirama's bruised forehead, healing the injury with a brush of his thumb, "You know I can't do that."

"You are impossible," Tobirama sighs. 

Hashirama silently heals all the other bruises and cuts he can find on his brother before he returns to using his chakra to speed the healing of his femur. Tobirama finds a more comfortable position to settle into and continues to help mend the bone, but even with both of them, it is still going far too slowly for Hashirama's liking. Around them, it's only Senju left on the scared battlefield now, gathering the injured and the dead as they start back home themselves. Hashirama itches to be on his feet saving the clan members he is able to save as he always does, and he can barely stand the urge to be on his way after Izuna to heal Madara, regardless of whether or not he would be able to. 

Intrusive thoughts keep invading his mind of Madara dying before Izuna makes it home, or dying under the hands of under qualified healers and he has to shut his eyes so he can ignore the blood on his skin and armor. It's out of his hands right now, Tobirama is right as usual. He has to trust that the Uchiha healers can manage to save Madara from his mistake long enough for him to draw Izuna back out and convince the younger man to allow him to heal Madara himself. 

That's the only hope he has, and he has no other choice but to cling to it, even as a dark, coiled, ominous feeling makes it's home in Hashirama's gut, steadily strangling his small ray of hope like a constricting viper. Something intangible but irrevocable tells Hashirama that he will never see his divine gift again. The image of Madara's bloody smile as the treeline enveloped him makes Hashirama's very soul begin to ache with nearly unbearable pain, and he finally begins to understand that maybe he thinks of Madara as a gift for a deeper reason than a kindred friendship. 

That blood tainted smile is the last thing Hashirama sees on the face of his beloved gift. 


End file.
